On Your Knees
by Anita
Summary: Wordlessly, all they can do is fall, the prayers are too far behind. House, Cuddy, Wilson


Another challenge over at Livejournal. This time, it was the music-fest, and my prompt was New Order's song Bizarre Love Triangle. House/Cuddy/Wilson, of course! Enjoy, and please review, it would be greatly appreciated. :)

* * *

On Your Knees

_It's no problem of mine but it's a problem I find  
Living a life that I can't leave behind_

_There's no sense in telling me  
The wisdom of a fool won't set you free_

_---_

"You don't need to do this." I pleaded to her with my eyes.

"Yes I do, Wilson." She stopped my insurgence short.

"He needs us." I bit back. "He needs you."

"Does he?"

"House just doesn't realize these things."

She pursed her lips as I rested my hand atop hers. "And maybe that's just the point."

I looked at her, but there were no more words. She curled her fingers around mine and I could not let go.

It was in moments like these that I could never distinguish who was pursuing who. Too faded to tell who has been seduced.

But really, does it matter?

Her lips will meet mine, regardless. And I always kiss back.

* * *

"You're an idiot." I murmured into his ear hastily. It was just an excuse to get closer, close enough to let my lips graze his cheek. I could clearly see the sharp flecks in his eyes.

"I bet you sleep with all the idiots." My heels were already off and scattered on his floor.

That's all it ever takes.

His hands were on me, possessive and swift. Brilliant

"You know Cuddy, there's no need for these mind games. All you ever have to do is ask." I shivered at his cold touch.

"You're not one to fulfill requests." He grinned as I unbuttoned his shirt.

And I'm not one to ask.

We are never prone to silence. The moment the words have escaped our mouths, we are out the door. Yet once he kisses me, I lose every thought, every sound.

The words can wait.

* * *

"Wilson, you really need to get laid." I smirked at him. "Maybe then you'll loosen up a bit."

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "And what makes you think I'm not getting laid already? Am I supposed to report to you about my sex life?"

I eyed him suspiciously, hoping to call his bluff. He's the good one, in some twisted sense. He's loyal and compassionate. He would never push this; he would never let it break.

Would he?

"Well, if you're getting action and you're still bitchy, then maybe you're not getting the **right** kind of action." My words were laced with consequence, forcing his defeat.

"You don't know anything about me, House." He replied stiffly, futilely dodging the truth. Proving that even he is capable of hurting me.

But we both know that's just not true.

* * *

_But that's the way that it goes  
And it's what nobody knows  
While every day my confusion grows_

_---_

Another night, another meaningless fundraiser to boost egos and procure donors. They've all seen it time and again. One in a million.

House sits, alone, toying with the glass in his hand. He watches Cuddy flash her radiant smile for the hundredth time that night, wondering if he is the only one who knows that it is never real.

She catches Wilson by the arm, leaning in to whisper in his ear. They are both eyeing House, unable to let him revel in his solitude.

House grunts as Wilson takes a seat next to him. Calm and interceding, Wilson plays the part he has resigned himself to. Bitter friendship with a touch of desire. No thought is without envy.

Suddenly, House drags Wilson into the hallway and they are alone. No more games.

His hand is on Wilson's waist and Wilson can't remember when it got there. Wilson grasps House's arm, but cannot decide. He does not push or pull. Instead, he waits. Every action has a reaction.

House grabs him quickly and there is no space between, no room to breathe. They kiss as if it's the first time, as if they are in a rush, as if the whole world is watching.

But their indiscretions are only caught by two eyes. Cuddy feels like she is stumbling wordlessly into the void of her own fears. She is watching an accident that has already happened. She cannot turn away.

And when they see her, it is already too late. The ties have come undone. Her eyes speak of endless pain and regret. They cannot soothe this ache.

It would be foolish to call it a broken heart. But sometimes almost is enough.

* * *

I could see them in her office, speaking calmly and quietly. Like professionals. Like adults.

Cuddy smiled at Wilson, and it reached her eyes. I shuddered at the comfort, the unspoken trust. They don't need to play; it was not just entertainment. They had something far more tangible.

Something I could never give them.

She cracked a joke and he laughed, looking happy. Happier than he had looked in months. Happier than I have had the luxury of seeing him.

The acid taste that filled my mouth could only be undone by a familiar white pill, like a reluctant saviour.

Maybe if I destroy myself, I could find a way to destroy them too.

* * *

Cuddy strode swiftly in between us. She barely offered me a glance, her attention direct and sure.

She was not here to play games, but House would never back down. He would have her the only way he knew how.

Their lines were sharp, but frayed at the edges. There was no sting in their dissent. Play fighting, a show for the galleries. Or maybe a charade for my benefit.

But I was not even wedged in the middle. I was nowhere in sight. They were moving closer and closer, drawn by an undeniable attraction. Further from the reality of my presence.

In a hurry, I hastened to make my exit. They noticed, if only for a moment.

But a moment was not what I needed.

* * *

It's like an obsession, watching them from afar. Everyone cleared the halls as they made their way toward the clinic. Whatever they were planning, I would be sure to hear about by the end of the day.

They never had any time for doubts.

House's shoulder brushed Wilson's as they walked, each step in synch. Lost to the world, their presence was dominating. The nurses grumbled as I found myself unable to concentrate on the information they fed me. Uncharacteristically distracted.

I should be fine without them. I should be accustomed to this feeling of loneliness. I should remember that I could hurt them just as deeply as they could hurt me.

Three can play at this game.

It never makes me feel better.

* * *

_I do admit to myself  
That if I hurt someone else  
Then I'll never see just what we're meant to be_

_---_

"So, want to grab a drink?" House addresses the night air, but Cuddy and Wilson turn to face his invitation nonetheless.

"House, it's too late." Cuddy replies. They both know she isn't talking about the time.

"Please." Wilson insists, touching her hand lightly.

It is a thin thread that binds, far too fragile. Trip-wire, tight rope, twist tie.

She assents to the look in their eyes.

If they let go now… they cannot let go.


End file.
